The Solution in the Psychologist
by calliopeiamuse08
Summary: Dr. Brennan has read Sweets' book, and she decides there's only one thing to do: convince Sweets that she and Booth aren't in love. She asks Booth to help her craft an argument. Now Complete. Ch.9: The only way things should ever end: happily ever after.
1. Chapter 1

Booth stared at his computer, not really reading the words on the screen. His mind was elsewhere.

"Booth."

He perked up at the sound of his name. He knew without looking at the speaker that it was Bones. Just the woman he'd been thinking of. "Hang on a second, Bones," he replied, moving his mouse around as though he were actually getting something done. He pretended to finish up his fake work and focused his attention on his partner. "What brings you out of the lab?"

She sat down in a chair, stiff and reserved. Most people would chalk it up to Dr. Brennan's cool scientific formality, but Booth knew something was up. She hesitated, and then began to speak. "There's an important issue I need to discuss with you."

Uh oh. Booth's stomach clenched. This was it. The Talk. She wanted to have the Talk about their relationship. She'd finally figured out that he was head-over-heels and was going to put a stop to it. Outwardly, he remained calm. He leaned back in his chair. "Oh?"

"It's about Dr. Sweets," she continued.

Booth just barely caught himself from smiling with relief. That was a close one. The way she'd stared at him with those beautiful eyes of hers, he'd been certain it was something more personal. Luckily his gut instincts had been wrong this time. He took the baseball from his desk and tossed it in the air. "What's wrong with Sweets?" he asked playfully, playing catch with himself. "Did he lose his retainer or something?"

Bones clasped her hands and inhaled deeply. "Dr. Sweets thinks that you and I are in love."

The baseball fell to the floor. Aw hell. So it _was_ about them after all. _Always trust the gut, Seeley,_ he reminded himself. He bent down and scooped the ball up nonchalantly, but noticed Bones frowning. _She thinks my coordination is poor_. "You just surprised me," he told her. "It's not a brain surgery thing."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I didn't say it was."

"Yeah, but you thought it," Booth insisted. "Don't try to fool me, Bones. I know you too well. Now, why are you concerned about Sweets thinking we're in love? He's said as much before. Let him think what he wants – _we_ know the truth." That statement made him feel almost guilty, being sort of a half-lie; he knew the truth about his feelings for Bones, alright. And Sweets did too.

"No, Booth, he's said that we're attracted to each other," Bones corrected him, "and admittedly, on a purely physical level he was most likely correct –"

_Wait, what?_

" – but I read his book. And he concludes that you and I are not merely biologically compelled to reproduce, but deeply romantically involved. I'm worried that his conclusions may cause him to recommend suspending our partnership." Her face was anxious, and her fingers were twisting the hem of her blazer. She really was upset.

"When did you read his book?" Booth asked, a little peeved. "I didn't get to read it yet."

"I confronted him and asked him to let me read it," Bones explained. "He was reluctant but I convinced him that, as the subjects of the book, we had a right to review its contents before publication."

"Ah." Booth had a feeling that it also had something to do with Sweets being more than a little pleased that the esteemed author Temperance Brennan wanted to read his book. "So what do you want me to do about it, Bones? Intimidate Sweets into agreeing not to split us up?"

"No, I think intimidation is only a temporary solution. I think we need to convince Dr. Sweets that we are not in love," she concluded.

"Convince him?" Booth raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Yes. Although he is misguided," Bones admitted, "he's capable of logic and reason. I believe that if we present a compelling argument, he will realize his error. That's why I came to you – I need your help. You understand how Dr. Sweets thinks."

Booth was pretty sure that no matter _what_ they said, Sweets would think what he wanted to think. The kid seemed to love antagonizing them just as much as they loved antagonizing him. He was also pretty doubtful that Sweets would split them up, because he knew a good thing when he saw it. Booth and Bones were a good thing, no doubt about that. But seeing Bones sitting there, all anxious and worried at the mere thought of not being partners anymore, made Booth want to play along. "Alright," he said, cracking his knuckles and taking a piece of paper out of his drawer, "let's get started."


	2. Chapter 2

Author Note:_ Thanks so much to everyone who already reviewed the last chapter. I am somewhat of a review junkie, so if you like what you read, please let me know. On with the show!_

* * *

"Let's start with a list," Booth suggested. "A list of evidence that supports the claim that we're not in love." _No theory can ever be proven; you can only use data to disprove or support_. Something he'd learned from Bones.

"Empirical inductive reasoning," she noted appreciatively.

He grinned. "I thought you'd like that." He forced himself to stop looking into her eyes and enjoying the moment and focus on the pen and paper on his desk. He cleared his throat. "Why don't you start coming up with reasons, and I'll play devil's advocate." It only took one glance at her mildly bemused face for him to clarify, "I'll try to counter your arguments. Like Sweets would."

"Alright." She contemplated for a moment. "Well, the most compelling evidence that we aren't in love is that we don't have a sexual relationship."

Booth didn't even bother writing that one down. "That doesn't count when you're dealing with Sweets," he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "He'd just rattle off some mumbo-jumbo psychotherapy lingo about repressed urges and fear of intimacy blah blah blah. Next."

"How about the fact that we've had many other sexual and romantic partners in the five years we've worked together?" she retorted.

"Now you're talking." Booth jotted down _Other relationships_. But unfortunately, it only took him a moment to formulate a rebuttal. "But you know, neither of us have been in a serious relationship for some time. You broke up with Sully a couple years ago, and I…" He whistled. "Unless you count my brief 'reunion' with Cam, I haven't been serious about anyone since Tessa." _Who I was dating right about when I got partnered with you_, he mentally noted. He wasn't quite sure why it had taken a coma dream to make him see what had been in front of his face all along. He crossed out _Other relationships._

"True." Bones thought silently for a few more seconds. "What about my request for you to be my sperm donor?"

Booth gaped at her. "You're really not helping your case here, Bones. You do understand that we're arguing _against_ the love thing?"

"If we were in love, I wouldn't have asked you to be my sperm donor, and you wouldn't have agreed," she insisted. "Surely two lovebirds in denial would have jumped at the opportunity to procreate naturally, using my desire for a child as an excuse to have sexual intercourse without admitting emotional motivations. Instead, I planned to be artificially inseminated."

"Aha, but Sweets would say that not wanting to have sex proves we _are_ in love," Booth rejoined.

"That makes no sense!" Bones exclaimed.

"He would say that two people with no real emotional attachment would have just slept together, saving a lot of time and money on your part," Booth explained. "That would have been the most logical thing to do. But subconsciously, we knew that if we had sex, any pretense of our relationship being just 'professional' –" he made air quotes – "would be destroyed, and we'd be forced to face our feelings." _Wow, Sweets has really rubbed off on me_, he thought uncomfortably.

She frowned. "That is completely untrue."

Booth shrugged apologetically. "Hey, I'm just saying what Sweets will say. I don't agree with it." _Much_.

"I hate psychology," Bones muttered.

"And you know…" He hated to bring this up, but he was tired of waiting for her to volunteer an explanation on her own. "You never told me what changed your mind about the baby."

She looked taken aback. "Oh. Well, when you were in a coma…" She spoke uncertainly, awkwardly, as if she were looking for the right words, and her blue eyes bored into Booth's. "I thought about what you said to me, about wanting to be a father and… I understood how you felt, wanting to take responsibility for your child. And I thought, my baby deserves that kind of father. The kind of father who couldn't bear the thought of not being a part of their child's life. I didn't want to have a child with someone I was romantically involved with because love is ephemeral and fleeting, but then I considered Parker. Even though you and Rebecca are no longer together, and Parker doesn't get to see you as often as you'd like, you're an excellent father. Parker's life is… richer for having you in it. And so I've decided to wait. To wait for someone who doesn't just want to father my child but be _a father_ to my child."

Booth's heart thudded painfully in his chest, his eyes stung, and it was all he could do not to leap across the desk, take her in his arms and promise to give her as many kids as she could stand. He briefly (very briefly) considered the feasibility of getting her drunk enough to marry him, but then dismissed it. She'd get an annulment before you could say "Viva Las Vegas." He coughed into his fist. "I'm glad to hear it," he said, hoping she didn't notice the husky edge to his voice.

She smiled, and he smiled back. Then he remembered why she was here in his office. He tapped his pen on the paper impatiently. "C'mon, hit me with another one," he urged.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thank you, thank you a million times to everyone who's written reviews. I love feedback of all kinds. Dare I ask for more? _

_Yes. Yes I dare. Please keep reviewing! :)_

* * *

"Don't you have any suggestions?" Brennan asked her partner. "My attempts seem to be unsuccessful so far. I'll be the devil for a while."

Booth chuckled. "Devil's _advocate_, Bones." Suddenly his smile faded, and his eyes grew hard.

"What is it?" she asked. She was terrible at reading the faces of strangers, but Booth…. Booth was like a skeleton to her. All the evidence she needed was plain to see; she just had to interpret it correctly. Therein lay the problem. But she'd spent enough time with him to learn his usual expressions, and the face he was wearing right now (a lowering of the brow, flaring of the nostrils, and tension in the jaw) was one he had when thinking about something painful. Something he didn't want to reflect upon.

He sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his temple. "Nothing. It was stupid."

"Was it about the argument?" she inquired. "Because I think you should let me hear your suggestions before making judgments about their validity. I let you hear mine."

"You're going to take it the wrong way," he muttered.

She simply sat and waited with an expectant, pleading expression on her face. "It's only fair, Booth." She felt a slight twinge of guilt; Booth never denied her requests. Especially when she made this face. It was slightly manipulative, but effective.

He pressed his lips together for a moment. "If you were in love with me, you wouldn't have gone to Guatemala."

She knew exactly what he was talking about, and what he meant by it: the six-week vacation she'd taken in Guatemala only days after he'd come out of his coma. For some reason, the implication hurt her – even though it appeared to support her argument. She opened her mouth to defend herself, but no words came out. How could she explain what she didn't fully understand? She had to approach this from a different angle… Maybe it would help if he elaborated. "You think I wouldn't have gone if I was in love?" she asked, reflecting his statement back at him, a technique Sweets often employed.

"You'd have wanted to stay by my bedside, nurse me back to health, feed me chicken soup, that kind of stuff," he replied nonchalantly. "You know. Dote on me."

Brennan frowned. "I don't think you understand my motivations for leaving."

He leaned forward on his desk and clasped his hands. "Enlighten me," he instructed, with a light smile on his face that she suspected was somewhat sarcastic.

"I didn't go to Guatemala because I don't care about you. We've established that we love each other platonically."

His smile faded a little, losing its bitter edge, and his eyes softened. His adam's apple bobbed. "Yes."

"I'm not a medical doctor, Booth," she explained, trying to talk her way through this. "If I want someone nursed back to health, I leave that to registered nurses. The doctors assured me you were healing well. But whenever you saw me, I could see you returning to that world in your coma dream, confusing reality with fiction. I thought that the recovery process might be easier if I wasn't there to… disrupt you." She couldn't quite admit the rest out loud: how painful it had been to see him thrown into confusion every time she entered the room, and how it scared her, even though she knew fear was irrational and unwarranted. She'd decided that maybe she was doing more harm than good by remaining with him.

Maybe he read her unspoken words in her face; his prowess at intuiting verged on the supernatural at times. His brown eyes were warm, accepting, gentle; silently he seemed to say, _I understand. I know you care about me. I know that's just your way because I care about you too_. Somehow she knew with certainty that that's what his gaze meant. She smiled softly, a strange yet familiar ache in her heart.

Then she remembered what she was supposed to be doing: playing devil's advocate. "That's the truth of the matter. But Sweets would probably come up with a much more colorful explanation."

"Like?" Booth egged her on, raising an eyebrow.

"Hmm." She pondered for a moment. The young psychologist was very prone to ridiculous speculation. She tried to view her actions through his fanciful eyes. He would capitalize on that illogical fear she felt, she was sure… She began to formulate an idea. "He would probably say that I took a vacation in Guatemala _because_ I was in love with you. Because, when you woke up and thought I was your wife, it frightened me so much that I had to flee and bury myself in my work."

"Frightened you? You were afraid because you were in love?" he asked skeptically.

"I was afraid of _being_ in love," Brennan corrected. She felt she was truly delving into fantasy here, but a larger picture was taking shape. "Seeing you look at me with such adulation terrified me, because the only way I was keeping my own deeper feelings at bay was by convincing myself that my feelings were unreciprocated." She grew more confident with each word; it seemed to flow naturally, easier than she'd expected. "I understood subconsciously that if you fell in love with me I would be unable to keep my emotions in control, despite all of my rational defenses. I would love you back. I would give in to my irrational, unchecked sentiment, making myself vulnerable, and _that's_ what frightened me." She smiled triumphantly.

Booth looked impressed. "That sounded almost legitimate, Bones."

She raised an eyebrow playfully. "I _am_ a best-selling author of fiction."

Then he sighed. "Unfortunately, that's _exactly_ how Sweets would trump our argument. So, Guatemala is no good." He crossed out something on the paper.

Oh, yes. The devil wasn't supposed to win. Her larger goal had been obscured by her competitiveness. She slumped in her chair. Then another thought came to her. "I have a piece of evidence that is impossible to trump," she announced.

Booth grinned wickedly. "Try me."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: _Wow, I'm really grateful to all of you who took the time to review. That being said... don't quit now! More, please! Every person who reviews will recieve their very own David Boreanaz!* Re-enact all of your favorite Bones episodes in the comfort of your own home - but with a shirtless Seeley Booth! Simply review and leave your shipping information._

_*Note: Author does not actually have ability to supply David Boreanaz clones. If she did, she would be too busy drooling and staring to write fanfiction._

* * *

"This whole time, Dr. Sweets has claimed that we're in love even though we claim not to be," Brennan began. "He says that we're simply unaware of our feelings, that we've subconsciously repressed them and that we are in serious denial."

Booth nodded thoughtfully to show he was following her.

"One could almost believe such a claim when referring to me," Brennan admitted. "I consistently compartmentalize my emotions and deny irrational urges, so the idea that I might continue such behavior subconsciously would not seem unjustified to someone who subscribes to psychology. But you!"

Booth raised his eyebrows, surprised. "What about me?"

"You aren't good at compartmentalizing. You're very in touch with your intuition, or your 'gut', as you call it. You are an extremely emotional creature."

"Hey!" he protested.

"You are," she insisted. "And especially after having a coma-dream in which you were married to me – the idea of you being _unaware_ of your feelings for me is ludicrous. If you were in love with me, you would certainly know it by now."

The look that crossed Booth's face then – she had a hard time identifying just what it was. It was something like amusement, but tinged with some other less pleasant emotion. But then it was quickly displaced by a rueful smile of acquiescence. "You're right," he agreed. "I would know. But I believe Sweets would ask – would that make a difference?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused. She was a little disappointed he hadn't immediately conceded the argument to her and suggested they confront Sweets with her evidence.

"Even if I secretly knew I was in love with you," Booth explained, "would I necessarily act on that knowledge?"

Brennan stared incredulously. "Of course you would. As you've explained to me many times before, love is paramount for you – the most important aspect of life for you. Besides that, you're reckless and bold, often advocating doing something illogical because it 'feels right.' If you knew you were in love with me, you would have acted on it."

He leaned back in his chair, fiddling with his pen. "But maybe I was playing it safe, biding my time until you showed that you felt the same way."

She laughed a little. "I've seen you flirt, Booth, and you don't wait around for the woman to make the first move."

He smiled a sincere, gentle smile. "For the right woman, I would," he said softly.

For some reason, her heart sped up and her mouth became dry. _Am I the right woman?_

And then his warm brown eyes shot back the unmistakable answer to the question she hadn't asked aloud. _Yes._

A cold bolt of fear struck her heart. Fear? Why fear? Her own words came rushing back at her. Sweets was right. Booth was in love with her. He was in love with her and that terrified her, because rationally she knew it was horribly inconvenient but emotionally – she _wanted_ him to love her. She wanted it more than anything else in the world because – she realized, as if a cartoonish lightbulb were switched on above her head – she loved him too. She loved him so much that she would gladly disregard all the logical, statistical, practical reasons they shouldn't be together if he just said the word.

She stood up, overwhelmed by her sudden revelation, uncertain of where to go but certain that she had to _leave_ and get away from this man who made her feel so strongly she scared herself. Her eyes were filling up with water, threatening to overflow if she didn't get it under control.

Booth stood up too, alarmed. "What's wrong?" he asked, striding quickly around his desk. "Where are you going?"

"I'm sorry – I think I just need to – get some fresh air –" she babbled, unable to form a plausible excuse under such duress.

"Bones, calm down," he replied, eyes anxious and worried. He reached out and put his hand on her arm. "Was it something I said? I'm sorry if I said something wrong."

It was those warm fingers that snapped her out of it. Wrong? He hadn't said anything wrong. He'd said something… too right. She blinked back her tears. It was childish to be afraid of an _emotion_. She was Dr. Temperance Brennan, damn it, and no irrational emotion got the best of her. Love was dangerous – she'd faced danger before. And no one made her feel safer in the face of danger than Seeley Booth. Love was inconstant – but she knew no one more loyal than Booth. She'd avoided love because it was irrational, but since it had clearly found her anyway, it would be more irrational to keep on ignoring it.

Brennan felt Booth watching her, clearly baffled. She couldn't quite explain to him what she wanted to say, but she had an idea of how she might communicate without words. "I'm alright," she reassured him. "Let me just try something." And then she grabbed him by the lapels and kissed him.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Okay, to everyone who submitted a lovely review - thank you. Your David Boreanaz has been shipped and should arrive shortly.* Now here's the moment you've all been waiting for - some B on B lovin'!

*Author is not responsible for damages sustained to Boreanazes in transit. If your Boreanaz is bruised, dehydrated, or traumatized during the shipping process, you will not recieve a refund or a replacement Boreanaz.

* * *

Whenever Booth thought he had Bones all figured out, she went and threw him for a loop. But this one, this was the mother of all loops.

He'd seen it in her eyes, when he hinted that he loved her. He'd seen her wondering if Booth could possibly mean her when he said "the right woman." And, like a fool, he couldn't help but answer her with his own eyes: _Yes, God yes, a thousand times yes. Always. Forever_.

Her eyes had grown as big as saucers, and she'd sucked in her breath. That's when he realized he'd made a mistake. Tears had started forming in those beautiful eyes and she'd stood up, panic-stricken, and headed for the door. He'd cursed himself. _Way to go Seeley. Scare her off and ruin everything that made your life good. You _knew_ it was too soon. _

He'd tried to calm her down, apologizing for anything he'd said wrong when they both knew very well it wasn't anything he'd said, but something he'd felt. And then suddenly, she'd blinked, recovered, assured him that she was alright, grabbed him by the lapels and proceeded to _blow his mind_.

And that's what was happening right now. Temperance Brennan was kissing him like there was no tomorrow and _goddamn_ she was good at it. He'd thought he'd gotten a little taste under the mistletoe a few years back but that was _nothing_ compared to this. His body kicked into overdrive and he kissed her back with years of pent-up lust and frustration and need. It almost felt like one of their arguments – a competition, who could devour who first, winner take all. His hands found their way all over her, exploring that sweet expanse of her that for so long had been marked off as "Look but don't touch" – the smoothness of her stomach, the swell of her breasts, the curve of her ass – while her hands were doing some exploring of their own. But it wasn't until his mouth found her neck and she moaned – oh Jesus, did she _know_ how hot that was? – that he regained some of his senses.

They were making out. In his office. With the blinds open. And he had no idea why.

Reluctantly, he disentangled himself from her. "Bones. Bones. Bones. This is great and all but – why are you kissing me?"

She stared up at him with those innocent baby blues. "Because we failed to support our claim."

He tried to remember what it was they'd been doing before her lips were on his. "The claim that we aren't in love?"

"Yes," she affirmed. "And I believe the last few minutes have disproved it entirely."

Was she saying what he thought she was saying? He couldn't believe it and yet – he'd felt it, in her kiss. But that wasn't enough. "Bones, as much as I love your science talk, I think we need to be painfully clear here. I love you. I'm _in love_ with you."

She leaned forward to start kissing him again.

"Wait." He kept her from closing the gap, holding her by the shoulders. Jesus, this was hard. He took a deep breath. "Do you love me?"

Her eyes sparkled. "Yes."

Booth closed his eyes. If he kept looking at her, he wasn't going to be able to keep from kissing her much longer. "I need to hear you say it," he insisted, his voice ragged and hoarse.

"I love you," she whispered.

Suddenly they were tangled up again, all heat and passion and desire, and it wasn't until he lifted her onto his desk and heard the clatter of office supplies tumbling to the ground that he remembered the other reason he'd stopped. He groaned in frustration.

"What is it?" she asked, breathless.

"Blinds," he sighed. "The blinds are open." He somehow managed to pull himself away from her. "And this is my office. Someone could walk in at any moment. People around here don't always knock."

"Well, it _is_ almost noon," Bones said coyly, getting up from his desk. "We could go back to my place for lunch. If you want."

Booth snatched her up and pulled her into a tight embrace. "What do you mean, 'if I want?'" he growled playfully into her ear, unable to resist a quick kiss to her cheek. She giggled – Bones _giggled _– and nuzzled her face into his neck. She was wearing a light floral perfume and she smelled – just incredible. "Of course 'I want.' You drive me crazy, you know that?"

Just then, he heard the quiet squeak of the door swinging open.

"Agent Booth, I – oh – sorry, am I interrupting something?"

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A/N: Oh, I'm evil, aren't I? You'll just have to wait and see what happens! I promise a prompt update... Of course, it couldn't hurt to review. :P


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: _Surprise - Extra long chapter! Hopefully you think this is a good thing. Thanks, hugs and Boreanazes go to everyone who reviewed. For those of you who have not - hopefully your guilty conscience is punishment enough. :P Everyone who guessed the unwanted visitor correctly gets a David Boreanaz 2.0, now with clothes held together by velcro for easier and faster removal.* _

_*Velcro clothes may chafe your Boreanaz - soothing rubbing ointments are sold separately. _

* * *

Standing in the doorway, awkwardly holding the door open with one hand and clutching a thick manuscript with the other, was Dr. Lance Sweets, who at the moment was the man Booth loathed most in the world. Bones had quickly extricated herself from his embrace, and Booth remembered why she had come to him in the first place. _I'm afraid he's going to recommend suspending our partnership._

Well, since he was going to have a talk with Sweets about knocking before entering anyways, he might as well have a frank discussion about the likelihood of Sweets suffering bodily harm if he did anything to endanger their partnership. But that could wait. Bones didn't like him scaring the boy.

In the meantime, he shot Sweets his most soul-piercing glare, one that made suspects squirm in the interrogation room. "What do you need, Sweets?" he barked.

Sweets had the decency to look a little embarrassed. "I was just, uh, stopping by to give you this." He held out the manuscript. "Dr. Brennan thought you might want to have a look at my book before I send it to my publisher. She thought you might have some… concerns."

"You're damn right I do," Booth snapped, stepping in closer and resting his hands on his hips testily. He could see Sweets unconsciously edge backwards. Perfect. He had the kid right where he wanted him. "I don't need to read your book, Sweets, because Bones told me all about it. And I wanna know – what's your exit strategy, buddy?"

"What 'exit strategy,' Agent Booth?" Sweets asked casually, trying to feign calmness but betrayed by the bobbing of his adam's apple. Booth also didn't miss his use of his professional title, trying to remind Booth that he was a federal agent in a federal building and beat-downs were generally frowned upon.

Booth inched closer and narrowed his eyes. "You say that Bones and I are in love. If we deny it, you have some psychological reason for why you're still right. If we admit it, you're right again. Either way, you've painted yourself into a corner here. What are you going to do with us, now that we're 'in love', huh? Gonna split us up because we lack professional distance?" Belatedly he realized he'd gone ahead and plowed straight into his "intimidate the hell out of Sweets" plan.

"No!" Sweets exclaimed. "God no – is that what this is about?"

Bones had been watching all of this nervously, and now she shot an excited glance at Booth. He wasn't convinced, however. "Well, what do you think is going to happen when our superiors read this thing?" He snatched the manuscript from Sweet's hand and waggled it in his face. "I don't think they look on this sort of thing too kindly, Sweets. I can't even tell you how much shit is going to hit the fan when Cullen gets wind of this."

"No, Booth, he's changed our names," Bones reassured him, laying a hand on his arm. "It's completely anonymous."

"Honestly, Agent Booth," Sweets said, looking somewhat relieved, "after all of this time, I'm surprised that you still think I'm trying to… _trick_ you somehow." He was looking at Booth in that intrigued-and-slightly-amused way he often did during their sessions.

"Don't you give me that look," Booth warned him. He shoved the manuscript back at Sweets.

"What look?" Sweets asked innocently.

"The germs-under-a-microscope look," Booth retorted. "And don't you even _dare_ say that you find my reaction 'interesting' or 'fascinating'. Now, Bones and I have to take care of business. We'll see you tomorrow. In _your_ office." He grabbed Bones' arm and started to drag her out the door.

"Well, congratulations," Sweets said, as they entered the hallway.

"On what?" Bones asked, glancing at Booth. He made his "hell if I know" face.

"On your new relationship," Sweets replied, grinning. "I have a really good feeling about you two."

Bones clutched Booth's sleeve in amazement. "How does he know?" she whispered.

Booth rolled his eyes. "You just _told_ him, Bones. Great. As long as we're informing everybody about our personal business, you might want to send a singing telegram to the Jeffersonian. The whole squint squad is going to know within twenty-four hours anyway."

"Agent Booth." Sweets gave him a deprecating look. "Client confidentiality is not something I take lightly."

"Not you, her!" Booth returned with frustration, gesturing to Bones. "She's a terrible liar, and the squints are gossips. It only took about a half-hour for the news to circulate the lab when I mentioned I had a son. Now, we _really have to go_." And with that, he dragged Bones to the elevator and pushed the button several times.

In the elevator, they were blessedly alone. Booth sighed and rested the back of his head against the fake wood paneling, closing his eyes. "Talk about a mood killer," he muttered under his breath.

"Do you still want to come over?" Bones asked uncertainly.

_Okay. That's it_. He pulled the emergency stop on the elevator, causing it to come to a shuddering halt. He planted his hands on the wall, on either side of Bones' head, and looked her straight in the eye. He kept his voice quiet and deadly serious. "Temperance. Brennan."

She stared into his eyes, obviously turned on but somewhat confused.

"I. Want. You. All the time, any place, I'm thinking about you and waiting, _just waiting_ for you to say the word, and I'm there. And don't think you can get away with spouting some kind of scientific bullshit about how it's impossible for me to be lusting after you twenty four-seven because trust me, sweetheart, I am. So when you ask me if I _want_ to come over," he continued, bringing his face a mere centimeter from hers, feeling her hot breath on his lips, lowering his voice to a dangerous, husky whisper, "the answer is no. I've been _wanting_ for the past five years – right now I _need_. There's no choice in the matter. And in fact, I'm strongly considering taking you right here, right now, in the elevator, while the people on the floors below us wonder what the hell is going on."

"So what's stopping you?" she breathed, her pupils dilated and her cheeks flushed.

He smiled wickedly. "Because I've had a long time to think about this, and quick and dirty is not what I have in mind for our first date. I'm going to _make love_ to you, Temperance Brennan." Without moving away from her face one inch, he pushed in the emergency button, and with a creak and a squeal in the elevator started moving again. "So I recommend you call Cam and take the rest of the afternoon off." And then, with a chaste peck on the lips and a wink, he retreated to the opposite side of the elevator and held her smoldering gaze as the doors rolled open and a crowd of noisy strangers surged between them.

_Oh yeah. This is gonna be good. _

* * *

A/N: _Okay, I only feel it fair to warn you, this story is rated T, and I intend to keep it that way, so sadly you will not be getting a blow-by-blow smutty account of their afternoon delight in the next chapter. You will probably get some vaguely hot adjectives paired with some suggestive nouns. _

_As a side note - the reason this chapter is so long is that I did not intend for the entire elevator scene to happen. I intended for the chapter to end with Booth muttering something about Sweets being a pain in the ass. But alas, the characters had other ideas. Brennan just had to ask that question and Booth could not let that stand. You ever have that happen to you - where you're writing something and it seems like the characters have minds of their own? Let me know in your review. Thanks for reading this far - please keep it up!_


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: _My apologies, everyone, for the fact that this is the shortest chapter of our story thus far. However, it started out as a chapter that was _twice_ as long as the others and I ended up splitting it in half. So don't worry, the next chapter will go up tomorrow. :) _

_This is the part where I thank everyone who has reviewed, and I want you to know, I really mean it. Your reviews are the highlight of my day. This story has gotten more responses than anything else I've written, and it's gratifying, truly gratifying to know that people out there are reading and enjoying. Thank you, and please keep it up. _

_In other news, there has been a recall on all Boreanaz 2.0 velcro clothing. It seems that the constant chafing of the velcro is causing the Boreanazes to become disgruntled and unruly. Several have already broken out of their habitats and tried to escape, loudly complaining about their sensitive skin. Send back your velcro Boreanaz clothes and receive a velour track suit, black speedo and tanning lotion, all a part of our Sunbather Boreanaz™ line, absolutely free.*_

_*Plus shipping and handling._

* * *

On the way back to her apartment Brennan had started to become worried about sleeping with Booth. He loved her, and she loved him, and he had so many preconceived notions about the quality of sex between two people who love each other. Oh, she had no doubt it would be _enjoyable_; you could tell that just from looking at Booth and the confident, graceful way he carried himself. Not to mention that past lovers had complimented Brennan on her technique as well. But in the past he had gone so far as to claim that good sex could defy the laws of physics, and he seemed to believe that intercourse between two caring partners should be nothing less than miraculous. And Brennan was used to giving men orgasms, not miracles.

But when he arrived at her apartment, the way he looked at her – dilated pupils making his eyes black, breathing heavy and all of his attention focused on _her_ – made her forget all of her anxieties and lose herself in his arms.

She had begun desperately ripping his clothes off in the living room, but he stopped her and insisted that, this first time at least, they make it to a bed. So she jumped up and wrapped her legs around him, and he carried into the bedroom, bumping into walls and knocking over furniture on the way. He laid her on the bed, and as he began to passionately but tenderly disrobe her, she was reminded of his words in the elevator. _I'm going to _make love_ to you, Temperance Brennan_. The worry started to creep in again.

He must have seen something in her eyes because he stopped kissing her, much to her dismay, and gazed at her with guilt and concern evident on his face. "I'm not – I'm not rushing you, am I?" he asked. "Because what I said earlier – we don't have to do this now, if you don't want to –"

Suddenly she understood his earlier frustration when she had asked him if he still wanted to come over. She responded by covering his mouth with her own, and when their lips parted again she leaned upwards and whispered in his ear. "Seeley. Booth." She heard his breath hitch at the sound of his name. "I. Want. _You_."

Now, hours later, Brennan was waking up in the arms of her partner, and she had to admit – the experience _had_ been rather miraculous.

Booth was still asleep, and she took the opportunity to study him more closely than she'd been able to before. She'd always found him attractive, but more than ever she thought he was truly handsome. Not in a classical Greek androgynous sort of way, but in a way that seemed even more ancient, more primal. She knew he wouldn't understand if she told him, but she secretly thought he was a caveman beauty. Large jaw, strong nose, heavy brow; they all suggested ferocity and testosterone. Broad shoulders and solid muscles backed up the claims his face made, and the slight curvature of his spine, while probably due to childhood scoliosis, made his shoulders hunch forward and lent strength to the image that he was a hunter, a warrior. He was a man born to tame wolves to sleep by his side, born to dominate the tribe and conquer any who dared challenge him. An alpha male. Considering how intellectual she was, Brennan found her deep attraction to him surprising.

Even more surprising was how gentle he'd been. She'd expected him to try and dominate her in bed, to let his fierce nature take over and slake his lust. And granted, things had started out that way; their frantic foreplay in the living room had been quite rough. But once he got her into the bedroom, a different side of him seemed to take over. He was slow, methodical, tender, a _lover_ in every sense of the word.

She watched his chest rise up and down as he slept peacefully, and smiled as she recalled something he'd said once: "That's right, people, I am a _constant_ surprise."

A few moments later, he awoke, and smiled back at her, blinking the sleep from his eyes. "I was right, wasn't I?" he gloated groggily. "Laws of physics were defied."

She smirked mischievously. "Well, doesn't the saying go that 'rules were made to be broken'?"

He laughed and they cuddled together, enjoying the mere presence of each other and the contact of their skin.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: _Okay, so this is it, folks: the second-to-last chapter. Sad, right? But all good things must come to an end._

_Thanks a million to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. You all get brand-new David Boreanazes. If you already have a Boreanaz, remember: you can use a Boreanaz for just about anything. Need a masseuse? Boreanaz. Bouncer? Boreanaz. Pool boy? Boreanaz. Fiancee? Boreanaz. Any job you can think of, your Boreanaz can do it. *_

_*Note: David Boreanaz hates birds. Do not ask your Boreanaz to feed your chickens or clean your aviary. _

* * *

Booth held her slender hand in his two large ones and played with her fingers. "Have I ever told you how perfect you are?" he murmured.

"No," she replied truthfully.

"Well, you are. You're the most perfect, exquisite woman I've ever known. Your face is perfect, your legs are perfect, even your fingers are perfect. Everything about you is perfect."

She couldn't believe him, sometimes. Brennan gave him her disapproving look. "I'm not perfect, Booth," she chided him. "And you shouldn't pretend that I am. It's dishonest."

"Dishonest?" he exclaimed indignantly. "_Pretend_?"

"You are in excellent physical shape, but I would never say that you're perfect. You have many flaws and imperfections, just like every other human being."

"Boy, you really know how to stroke a guy's ego," he muttered.

"There's nothing wrong with having flaws," she protested. "Our culture places extreme emphasis on maintaining the illusion of physical perfection, but in _reality_ everyone has flaws. I don't want to change or hide yours. They make you the man that I know and love. For instance, you have these acne scars." She gently kissed the pock marks where his jaw met his ear. "Which tell me that you were once a pimple-faced teenager, no matter how cool and mature you are now –"

"Jesus, Bones," he groaned, "you think I _want_ to remember that?"

"No," she admitted, "but _I_ find it amusing." She moved down to his chest, planting a few light kisses along the way. "And here you have a scar from the time a crazy woman shot at me, and you stood in her way to protect me." She fingered the mark gingerly. The few days that she thought he was dead were some of the darkest days of her life, outweighed only by the disappearance of her parents and the abandonment of her brother. It was amazing that the only reminder left was this shiny pink scar. He was incredibly lucky.

Then she turned around and climbed down the bed to his feet. She tapped the soles lightly. "And here, carved into the bone, are just a few of the many scars that tell the story of your service in the Army, and your commendable conduct on the battlefield." She kissed the tops of his feet, making his toes curl. Yes, his bones would forever bear witness to the suffering he'd endured in the name of his country. She couldn't help but recall the time he'd been kidnapped and tortured by Gallagher, and afterward he'd flippantly remarked that he'd "been tortured worse." As if that made things better. Even though she was proud of him, she wished he'd never had to face the kind of horrors he had.

Her tour having concluded, she climbed back around and snuggled in next to him, and he wrapped his arms around her. "That's what I do, Seeley," she explained, looking into his eyes. "I look at skeletons, and use their imperfections to identify them. Their scars, their wounds, their deformities – they all tell me who they were, and how they lived." She touched her lips to his. "And I love who you are, and how you live."

He tightened his grip on her and rolled her on top of him. "You misunderstood me," he informed her.

She raised her eyebrows. She didn't need to ask him to elaborate.

"I don't think you're perfect like a fake skeleton, with the ulna exactly this ratio to the thoracic vertebrae and the coronal suture at the exact right angle –"

"That doesn't make any sense!" she laughed.

He chuckled. "I _know_, Bones. What I'm saying is, I don't think your body's perfect because it's anatomically correct. It's perfect because it belongs to you. Every little thing about you is exactly the way I'd plan it. Every flaw, every scar and every 'deformity', as you like to call it, seems like it was designed to make you even more beautiful, and everything about you makes me love you more. That's what I mean by perfect." He caressed her cheek with his thumb, and then pulled her in for a passionate kiss. "You are perfect to me," he whispered hoarsely.

She smiled and gazed down at him, hoping he could feel the way her heart sped up when he whispered that way. "Well, under that definition, you're perfect too," she said softly.

She was rewarded by one of his glowing, heartfelt smiles, the kind where she could see every one of his pearly white teeth, and her body was pressed so close to his that when he chuckled she could feel it as much as hear it. "Thanks, Bones." Then his smile turned suspiciously innocent. "I know this is technically our first date," he began, "but how do you feel about going back to Vegas for a little vacation?"

She frowned. "Booth, you're a gambling addict –"

"_Reformed_ gambling addict," he corrected.

"- and Las Vegas seems like the last place we would want to go." The last time she and Booth had been in Vegas, they'd gone undercover to bust an underground fight club. Things had not gone according to plan and Booth had ended up in the ring, and their trip had nearly ended with "Tony the Tiger" getting smashed into a bloody pulp. He'd won, but not without receiving a severe beating first. Why he thought she would want to _return_ there was beyond her.

"But I know everybody there! And there are lots of other things besides casinos and fight clubs in Vegas," he assured her. "There are bars, and music halls, and magic shows, and _wedding chapels_, and I don't know, there's gotta be a few bowling alleys –"

In a flash she understood _exactly_ where this was headed. "Seeley Booth!" she exclaimed in surprise, pushing off of him and sitting up. "You want to get me inebriated and marry me!"

"What on earth are you talking about?" he asked, feigning indignation, his playful eyes belying his wounded expression. "I am a _gentleman_, Bones. But, you do raise an interesting point – _maybe_ if you just got married on the spur of the moment, you know, no big ceremony to 'reinforce antiquated gender roles' and whatnot, and tried it out for a few days, you'd change your mind about the whole thing."

She rolled her eyes. "I've told you dozens of times before, Booth. I'm not getting married. Ever."

"Don't knock it 'til you try it," he warned.

"Maybe you should become a vegetarian, then," she retorted.

He gaped. "Give up meat? Are you _deranged_?"

"Don't knock it 'til you try it," she shot back. Speaking of food… "Now, if you're done trying to manipulate me into inadvertently participating in archaic cultural institutions, I'm going to make lunch." She stood up from the bed and spotted Booth's clothes strewn on the floor. "And I'm taking these," she declared impishly, snatching his pants and sauntering towards the door.

"Bones! Give me back my pants!" he demanded, trying to look fierce but obviously entertained.

She paused in the doorway, reaching her arm upwards and leaning against the doorframe seductively. In the New York accent of her Las Vegas identity Roxie, she raised an eyebrow and simply said, "Come and get 'em,_ tiger_."

"Oh, that is _it_, I am gonna teach you a _lesson_," Booth growled, jumping up from the bed with a devilish look on his face and chasing after her. She made a mad dash to the kitchen, but she didn't get more than a few feet before he caught her and tackled her.

Needless to say, lunch was temporarily delayed.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N:_ *Sniffs, chokes back sobs* It's... the last chapter. Thank you all so much for reading this. I'd like to thank the Academy...._

_Oh, you wanted me to shut up and leave you to the ending? Well all right then. So long, and see you when I write my next fic. :)_

* * *

Booth and Bones sat in Dr. Sweets' office the next morning. Booth was fervently praying for phone call that a case had turned up. Then his Catholic guilt kicked in as he realized that he was essentially praying for someone to be murdered and their body mangled beyond recognition. _Let me rephrase that_, he amended silently. _Out of all of the people who have already been murdered and mangled beyond recognition, whose families have yet to receive closure, let one be discovered today. So that we can bring the murderer to justice. And if by some happy coincidence, that means we happen to get out of this therapy session, I will go to church every Sunday for the rest of my life._

Booth had never been comfortable with the whole sharing-and-caring thing. It wasn't his style. He didn't like talking about his problems, largely because he didn't like to admit he even _had_ problems to anyone outside of his small circle of close friends and family. By nature he was a man who played his cards close to the vest. But there were three topics in particular that he absolutely hated to discuss in their sessions: his childhood, his personal weaknesses, and his sex life. For some reason, these were also the topics Sweets _loved_ to discuss. One guess as to which one he had latched onto today.

"Bringing sex into a relationship can complicate things," Sweets was saying. "You allow yourself to be vulnerable to your partner, which can be frightening, but ultimately it's that mutual vulnerability that will strengthen the bond between you. It's important to maintain honesty and trust in the relationship now more than ever."

Booth rolled his eyes and propped his head up with his hand, his elbow digging into the armrest. As if he needed relationship advice from a guy young enough to be his kid. He'd been having sex since Sweets was in diapers! And granted, his relationship with Bones was special, in that they worked together and screwing up the relationship meant screwing up his career, but still. Give a man some credit. He wasn't worried about the next few weeks, or even the next few months of their relationship. What worried him was that he could see himself with Bones several _years_ down the line, and if she didn't cave in and marry him by then he was going to seriously lose it.

Meanwhile, Sweets was still blathering on about the importance of a healthy sex life and communicating your needs, et cetera, et cetera. Booth thanked his lucky stars that he'd had the foresight to have a talk with Bones before the therapy session, explaining that he felt sex was one of those things that was between them and should just be theirs. Sweets was there to observe them and facilitate their professional relationship, and it wasn't necessary for him to be privy to all the intimate details of their personal lives. Bones had agreed, but Booth suspected it was only out of deference to him. He knew she would be perfectly comfortable chatting it up with Sweets; he could just picture her discussing how interesting it was that she usually called lovers by their given names, and Booth called her Temperance in bed, but she found herself crying "Booth" again and again while having intercourse with him. Yes, Booth had really dodged the bullet on that one.

Sweets was still yammering away about trust and honesty and not using sex as a bandaid for deeper issues, and on and on and on. Finally Booth had had enough. "Well, Bones and I are very happy so far," he interrupted Sweets, "but thanks for the concern. Now, for the love of God, can we talk about something else?"

Bones looked amused at his discomfort, a small smile on her lips. Sweets shot him a calculating look. "Certainly, Agent Booth. We could talk about your constant attempts to steer our sessions away from topics you find uncomfortable, indicating your desire to assert control over the situation –"

"Why is it so wrong that I don't want to be lectured on sex for an hour by someone who can't go to an R-rated movie without a parent or guardian?" Booth demanded angrily.

"Really? You're going to pull the age card? I can't believe, after _all this_, you still can't admit that I might know what I'm talking about!" Sweets exclaimed.

Booth narrowed his eyes. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"C'mon. Guys. " Sweets glanced smugly from Booth to Bones, appealing to them with loosely outstretched arms in the classic "are you not seeing what I am seeing right now" Sweets pose. "_I was right_."

"Right about what?" Bones asked blankly.

Sweets pressed his lips together and rolled his eyes in disbelief. "You seriously –" He sighed in exasperation and clenched his hands. "About you and Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan. After all your resistance, and hostility, and aggression, and denial, I was right. You two are in love. And now that you've admitted it, your relationship is able to grow and mature in new directions -"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa – I _told_ you that I was in love with Bones," Booth corrected.

"_But_, if you'll recall," Sweets countered, "I wrote my book long before you were able to face your own emotions and vocalize them."

"So you made one lucky guess," Booth retorted. "Big deal."

"It was not a _guess_!" Sweets insisted hotly. "I am a professional psychologist. I have _four degrees_. People pay me for my advice – they pay me _good money_. So why is it that you two refuse to take me seriously? Especially you," he appealed to Bones, looking disappointed. "You're a logical, rational woman. How can you ignore all of the logical indicators of my skill simply because of my age?"

Brennan looked at Booth before responding, as she often did when she was unsure about what to say. "You know that I don't believe in psychology," she began.

"Dr. Brennan –"

"No, let me continue." She took a deep breath. "I admit that there are… some problem-solving techniques that are unscientific but nevertheless effective under the correct circumstances. For example, Booth's hunches and gut feelings."

Booth stared at her incredulously. _Is she… is she admitting that I might be right to go with my instincts?_ _Where's the real Bones, and what have you done with her_?

"But it's not Booth's methodology I trust. If anyone else expected me to accept judgment calls they made based on intuition, I would question their competence and professional credentials. But Booth has demonstrated to me time after time throughout my years of working with him that for some reason his unjustified emotions are usually correct." She smiled a hard, flinty smile. "That's scientific rigor, Dr. Sweets: conducting a test again and again to verify the validity of your results. And I achieved consistent results with Booth. Eventually, I was satisfied that I could rely on his judgment, even though I found his methods suspect.

"So, knowing how I feel about your methodology, you can understand that even though one positive result certainly strengthens your credibility, by no means does it concretely establish it. I simply have not known you long enough to come to any conclusions about your efficacy or accuracy. Statistically speaking, I have no way of knowing whether or not your observations were astute or merely a fluke." She had avoided Booth's gaze ever since she started her little spiel, but now she looked him straight in the eyes, all of the affection and pride and esteem she had for him radiating from that gorgeous face. "So when I have to chose between your opinion and Booth's, with no other data available, I'm afraid that the only logical choice is to give Booth the benefit of the doubt. If he says that experience is more important than theory when it comes to relationships, I'm inclined to believe him."

Booth smiled slowly, unable to contain the warm fuzzy feeling that was pulsing in the center of his chest. He laid his hand over hers, and they shared a silent moment of acknowledgement.

_I love you. I respect you, _she seemed to say_. _

He sent his silent response back._ Thanks, I respect you too. Let's get married. _

Somewhere far, far away from cloud nine, where Booth and Bones were currently making googly eyes at each other, Sweets coughed quietly.

Booth was rudely jerked back to reality. He broke eye contact with Bones and smirked at Sweets. "See that, Sweets? That's trust right there. And Bones is honest enough for the both of us. So you know what?" He put his hand on Bones' knee. Christ, he loved doing little possessive things like that. "I think we're going to be just fine."

Sweets smiled ruefully. "The funny thing is, I couldn't agree more."


End file.
